


The Case of William's New Friend

by WhatLocked



Series: The William Watson Case Files [9]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bad Jokes, Dinosaurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: William makes a new friend and Sherlock is horrified.





	The Case of William's New Friend

~~~~~~~~~~

John stood in the doorway of Lestrade’s office, keeping an ear on Sherlocks ranting over the obvious difference between a monkey and a trained officer of the law (according to the worlds only consulting detective the answer was that apparently a monkey can be taught over time) and keeping a watchful eye on William who, not being allowed into Greg’s office due to the nature of their visit, had been relegated to an unoccupied office cubicle not too far away.

They weren’t even supposed to have been in today.  They had been on their way to dinner when Sherlock received a call stating that not only did he need to come in and finish off the paperwork he had previously graffitied with some rather scientifically worded insults but to also address the official harassment form that had been lodged that afternoon by the newest member of Greg’s team.

Apparently telling someone that a weevil would make a better police officer and that maybe they should try and find a profession less mentally taxing, like maybe, a mime, which would have the added bonus of not allowing the rest of the populace to suffer from the utter drivel that spilled from one's lips and that it was a good thing that one decided not to take up teaching primary school as idiocy was transferable to small children who lapped everything up like a sponge, was not an appropriate statement to make towards the Chief Superintendent’s niece.  

John was sort of glad that Sherlock didn’t swear.  If he did, John would quite possibly be learning quite a few new words right now, and that was saying something since John knew how to swear in eight different languages.

Meanwhile, William was totally oblivious to the rather complex insults that were currently spewing from Sherlock's mouth at hearing that, unless he offered a formal apology, he would not be allowed on crime scenes anymore.  The young boy had found a chair that swivelled and was currently trying to make it spin as fast as possible, which wasn’t very fast at all as he was only using one hand to propel himself around, as the other one was clutching Tom Bombadil to his chest.  

Briefly, John was distracted from both the children in his life, by a figure coming up the corridor. A quick glance showed that it was Anderson.  John gave a short nod of his head in greeting when Anderson’s eyes met his and the man mirrored the movement.  Despite him being a spineless bit of a weasel, the man wasn’t that bad and he wasn’t as useless at his job as Sherlock made out.  To be honest, Sherlock's main gripe with the man was actually that he wasn’t working to his full potential, too busy trying to fit in with the rest of the team to focus all of his attention on the task at hand.

Anderson steadily made his way towards John, a familiar looking cream folder clutched in his hands, but stopped when a very familiar voice bellowed out “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Silence seemed to descend all around them, only the echo of Sherlock's words bouncing around in his head and John was pretty sure his eyes looked just like Anderson’s.  Wide as saucers.  Even William had stopped his spinning and was staring towards Lestrade’s office, his mouth open in shock.

“I’ll come back later” Anderson muttered and John could only nod in agreement.

“Might be a good idea, yeah” he said before turning around and peering into the office.  Apparently, damage control was going to be needed.

~o~

William watched his dad go into Greg’s office and shut the door, but not quite all the way so he could still hear their voices, but couldn’t make out their words.  He had heard Sherlock say bad words before, but never that bad.  His dad had told him that was one of the worst words you could say and if William ever said he would lose TV for a very long time.   Sherlock must be really, really mad.  Madder than dad when Sherlock had accidentally let loose an entire case of stink beetles the other month.  

Deciding that staring at the door and trying to listen to what the adults were saying was no fun at all, William figured he would see if he could spin any faster than before, but just as he braced his hand on the corner of the desk to help push himself around a person was standing next to him.  

“Is that a stegosaurus you have there?” the person asked and William looked up to see a man with neatly combed hair and a long pointy nose.  

Daddy had always told him not to talk to strangers but they were at the police station and daddy had also told him that if he was lost or hurt and alone, he could find a policeman and it would be alright to talk to them.  Therefore, it was safe to talk to this man, and this man must be clever, because he, apparently, knew about dinosaurs.

“Hith name ith Tom Bombadil” William replied, still holding him close.  The day Tom had gone missing was still fresh in his memory and he wasn’t letting anyone take his best friend away ever again.

“Well, I must say, he is an impressive specimen if I have ever seen one.  I have several stegosauruses at home myself, but I can’t say I have seen an orange and blue one before” the man said, looking down at the toy, clutched in William's hand.  William looked down at the dinosaur in his hand and then back up at the man.  

“Do you have any other dinothaurth?” he asked, curious about the man in front of him.  He hadn’t come across any adults who liked dinosaurs, except for the lady at the museum.  Daddy only pretended to like them and Sherlock said that they were a fairy tale, which then caused daddy to throw a magazine at his head and told him to brush up on some facts.  

“Many” came the reply.  “Would you like to see?”

William could only nod in response.  To decline that offer never even crossed his mind.

“My name is Phillip, by the way,” the man said, pulling up a chair so he was sitting next to William.

~o~

“Will that be enough to keep everyone happy?” Sherlock asked, dropping the pen on top of the hastily written apology, the sarcastic drawl barely masking the disdain that had seeped into his tone with every word before his sudden, and rather surprising, outburst earlier.

 The shock at Sherlocks outburst had faded away and now the headache that Lestrade had developed after speaking to the Chief Superintendent (can be read as, listening as the fat, sweaty bastard yelled abuse down the phone) was now back, but thanks to John (bless his little soldier boots) it was only a mild throb rather than a pounding herd of drum playing elephants.  It was John who had come in, calmed Sherlock down and then suggested that since a verbal apology would only end in more tears, maybe a written one would be a better choice.  A written apology that was heavily edited by both Greg and John.  (Some of the screwed up first attempts were very colourful, despite being written in black ink on white paper.)

“Yes, thank you” Greg managed to get out without sounding exhausted as he pulled the piece of paper over to his side of the desk and folded it so it would fit inside an envelope.  

Today had been good.  Great even, until ten minutes before knock off time when Patrick Paulson had called to say that an official complaint had been lodged against Sherlock Holmes.  He had been told, in very specific terms, that unless that raving lunatic was kept under control, he would no longer be allowed to attend crime scenes.  It was a sore point that higher ups ( _Mycroft_ ) had gone over Patrick's head all those years ago in order to allow Sherlock onto crime scenes in the first place.  What made it especially worse was the fact that, in this instance, Sherlock had been right.  Kerry Paulson - the newest member of his team - was useless.  She had got as far as she had because of who she knew.  Not only was she useless, but she liked to shoot her mouth off at everyone, leaving everyone with absolutely no respect, or patience for her.  It was only a matter of minutes before Sherlock had her in tears.  

To be fair, Greg had told her to stay away from him, to not speak to him and, just to be careful, not even look at him, but she couldn’t help herself.  She had obviously heard all about Sherlock from good ol’ uncle Patrick and she had disliked him from the minute he was pointed out to her.  Thought she could put him in her place.

It could only have ended badly.

But now, it was a headache for Greg and while he could get this smoothed over in a matter of minutes with the help of Mycroft, he didn’t want to.  This was his job, god damn it, he wasn’t going to go running to his partner whenever it got a bit hard.

“Will that be all, _Detective Inspector_?”  Greg hid the wince.  Sherlock only ever called him that when he was extremely impressed or very disappointed in Greg.  The tone he used wasn’t so much as leaning toward the latter as it was, packing up all its things and moving in with it.  Now definitely was not the time to bring up the unfinished paperwork.  He’d just catch John up tomorrow for a pint or something and gently let it slip into the conversation.

“Thank you.  I’ll make sure this gets delivered” he replied, tapping the now sealed and addressed envelope containing a very tightly worded apology letter, against the top of his desk.

“Come on John.  We have a dinner reservation to catch.” Sherlock's words were spoken through tight lips as he stood up and pulled his coat around him in that haughty way, buttoning up the front to make himself look more imposing.  And the arrogant bastard knew it worked too.

Sherlock stalked past John and Greg shot John an exasperated look.

“He’ll calm down.  Maybe keep him and Paulson away from each other for a bit?”

Greg was about to announce that if he had his way, he’d keep himself away from Paulson but he was cut short by the panicked “ _John_ ” that came from just outside of his office door.

Quickly, Greg was out of his chair and heading for the main office.  There wasn’t much that could make Sherlock sound that panicked and anything that could, was bad news indeed.

~o~

Sherlock was vaguely aware of John next to him, posture battle ready, looking for threats directed towards his friend or family.  He was also aware of Lestrade, just behind him, but what was taking up most of his attention was the nightmare in front of him.

It was impossible, it couldn’t have happened, not while both he and John were only a few feet away.  But his eyes were seeing the undeniable proof, right in front of him.  

William was no longer sitting on the office chair that John had left him on.  Nor was he alone.

Now, he was standing at a desk, Tom Bombadil in the clutches of someone far worse than Mycroft and William was laughing.  Giggling to the point that his ears had gone red.  And to Sherlock's horror, the giggles were a direct result of something that had been uttered by Anderson.

“A dino-thnore?  That ith tho funny” Sherlock heard the boy say between giggles.  “Do you know anymore?”

Sherlock didn’t hear if Anderson knew anymore (it was amazing he knew anything at all) as he was turning to John to see what he was going to do with the scenario playing out before him, after all, it was his son being exposed the moronic waves that rolled off of Anderson at regular intervals.  What Sherlock saw was not what he was expecting.  John wasn’t looking as if he were ready to storm over and save his son from the clutches of Anderson, the moronic oaf of NSY.  No, he was smiling, softly, as if what was playing out before him were something sweet or mildly amusing.  

“Jesus christ” Sherlock heard mumbled behind him and felt himself relax a bit.  At least someone, other than himself, was aware of the danger happening right before them.

“I thought something bad had happened” was Lestrade’s next words and Sherlock turned to glare at him, clearly miffed at not having his support after all.

“Something bad _has_ happened” Sherlock hissed.  “William is being _friendly_ with _Anderson_.”

Lestrade just offered a look that stated he was clearly not in the mood for this and turned and entered his office, closing the door quite firmly behind him.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Sherlock implored towards John.  John’s response was to smile more and give a slow shake of his head.  

“John” Sherlock urged.  “Anderson has your son.”

Finally, John looked away from the horrors across the room and towards Sherlock.  “He’s safe, he’s occupied and he’s happy.  Let’s leave him be for a bit.”

“But, John.  _Anderson_.”

“Yeah, I can see that, and I can also see that William is happy.  A couple more minutes and then we’ll go” and with that, he walked away from Sherlock and made himself comfortable in the chair that William had vacated in order to cavort with the enemy.

Apparently, Sherlock could do nothing but sit back and watch in silent horror.

~o~

William giggle at yet another Joke that Phillip had told him.  He knew all the best dinosaur jokes.  And he had shown him so many photos of all the dinosaurs he had at his house.  There were stegosauruses, t-rex’s, pterodactyls, triceratops and even a velociraptor.  He also had some old bones from a dinosaur and fossils that his cousin brought back from all over the world.  Real fossils, not the fake ones Mrs Hudson had got him for Christmas. And to top it all off, he had let William use Sally’s highlighters to colour in the pictures he had drawn of his favourite dinosaurs and then told William that they were the best pictures he had ever seen.

“What do you call a dinosaur with no eyes?” Phillip asked, answering Williams previous question.  

“I don’t know,” William said, holding in the giggle he knew was coming.  All of Phillips jokes were funny.

“Doyouthinkysaraus” was the reply given, a huge smile spreading across his face.

Despite not getting the answer, William broke out into a fresh fit of giggles.  It wasn’t until he tried repeating the answer, albeit slower than Phillip had said it, that it actually made sense and he started laughing so much he actually fell off of the chair.

“Oh, shit” he heard Phillip say and felt his hands scrabble to catch William, only just succeeding in catching the edge of his cardigan and slowing the inevitable fall to the floor.

“All right, buddy.  I think it might be time to go home” came his daddy’s voice and slowly, Williams giggles sobered up and a small pout formed on his little lips.

“But I’m playing with my new friend” he whined.  He looked towards Sherlock when a sound that sounded like a sad whimper came from the other man but forgot about him when he felt hands righting him into a sitting position.

“Apologies, Dr Watson” he heard Phillip say as he helped pull William up to his feet.

“Not at all, Anderson” his daddy replied and William was instantly confused.  Who was Anderson?  Surely not this man?  Sherlock said Anderson was an idiot who didn’t know his elbow from his posterior (whatever that was) but this man, _Phillip,_ was very clever indeed.  He knew everything about dinosaurs.  “Thank you, for keeping him occupied.  You didn’t have to, but it is greatly appreciated.”

John looked from his dad to Phillip.  They looked happy like they were friends.  Confused, he looked to Sherlock.  He didn’t look happy.  William was more confused.  

“Well, we really need to get going,” John said and then reached a hand out to Phillip and Phillip shook it.  “Thanks again.”

“Not a problem” Phillip replied and then looked down to William, handing him Tom Bombadil.  “The next time Jerry comes back from a dig I’ll see if he has any spare fossils.  I’ll give them to your dad, for you” he said and ruffling William's hair, he gave a short nod to John and walked away.

William was far too excited to reply.  He was going to get a real life fossil.

“Come on, let's go before Sherlock boils his brain with all that brooding his doing.”

William reluctantly followed his dad towards Sherlock.

“Why did you call him Anderthon?” William asked, clutching onto his dad's hand.  “He thaid hith name wath Phillip.”

“Anderson is his last name, like how Bill calls me Watson sometimes.”

“But, I thought Therlock thaid Anderthon wath a moron.”

“He is a moron” Sherlock replied, being within earshot of the conversation.  William gave him a frown as he walked close enough for Sherlock to walk next to him as they made their way towards the elevator.

“No he’th not” William replied, sounding a bit too happy for Sherlock’s liking.  “He ith very clever.  He knowth lotth about Dinothaurth.  More than you do, tho he mutht be clever.”

William ignored his dad’s chuckle and was too busy carefully placing one foot directly in front of the other, heel-to-toe, to notice the affronted bristle on Sherlocks face.

“What does a triceratops sit on?” William asked, giving a quick skip and then continuing his heel-to-toe walk.

Sherlock was too busy vowing to learn everything there was to learn about dinosaurs, despite the useless clutter it would form in his mind palace, to hear the answer to Williams question, but he was soon pulled out of his sulk by Williams giggle.  John was right.  William was happy.  If it had been Anderson that brought that smile to his face, then who was Sherlock to begrudge him that.  It also gave him a reason to outsmart Anderson, one more time.   As soon as he could find some quiet time to google the hell out of dinosaurs. The game was on.

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought of Anderson in a loveless marriage with no kids, but I think he would be good with them. Hence, this instalment of the WWCF. That and I found some sadistic glee in Sherlock's distress at finding out William had befriended Anderson, of all people.
> 
> The Jokes Anderson told William are:  
> Q: What does a triceratops sit on?  
>  A: It's tricera-bottom.   
> Q: What do you call a dinosaur with no eyes?  
>  A: Doyouthinkysaraus   
> Q: What do you call a sleeping dinosaur?  
>  A: A dino-snore!   
> I really had to think back to my childhood days to remember those ones.


End file.
